


Empty bottles, and cherished memories

by excuezme



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, I just love them a lot, Lots of Angst, M/M, lmao more angst, others may not be so angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-08 23:06:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16438538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excuezme/pseuds/excuezme
Summary: This was the first time he was lying down on this bed alone, wishing that his left side wasn’t empty after all, hoping that he would wake up any moment now, and The war, the loss, the sadness, the sorrow, the pain- all of this had just been a bad dream.It wasn’t.It was this cold, harsh reality, that made him come crashing back down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Angst™  
> So this is going to be a short one I’ll expand this one so that’ll be hella rad. i want them to have a happy ending but i dunno. i've written a lot more of these, they follow a similar theme, some are probably less sad than others, some aren't sad at all. this is my first time publishing something i wrote so please be nice :)  
> So yeah. This is a very sad story.  
> So here we go (this is probably more painful for me than it is for you but I guess we can share the pain no kidding i actually cried writing this.)

Collins thinks he might be going crazy. He’s losing his mind. He’s lost all purpose. The only flicker of hope for him was now gone, and he could not imagine what they might be doing to him. Now he was stumbling, looking in the dark, with an empty heart. he reminisces about all the times he was happy, lying on the mattress in this hotel room, staring at the ceiling , letting a stray tear escape his eyes, rolling down the side of his face and landing on the now damp pillow. This was the first time he was lying down on this bed alone, wishing that his left side wasn’t empty after all, hoping that he would wake up any moment now, and The war, the loss, the sadness, the sorrow, the pain- all of this had just been a bad dream.

  
It wasn’t.

  
It was this cold, harsh reality, that made him come crashing back down.

  
He’s lost, - completely lost, like a ship without a rudder, just floating around in the storm, aimlessly. He’s unable to find shore, forever in the risk of crashing against a rock, and breaking. Breaking into pieces until all that’s left is dust. Gone with the wind.

  
He’s staring at the hotel ceiling, drinking everything he could find, trying in vain to drown the memories. That’s what the alcohol did to him. Instead of making him forget, it made him remember. They came like a wave, violently smashing against the shore. It made his chest hurt.

  
“how does it feel to leave me this way?” he asks. He knows it’s not Farrier’s fault, he can’t hep it. He’s angry. Not angry at Farrier, angry at fate – and how it had so cruelly ripped them apart. The guilt gnaws at his heart, relentless, unforgiving. He feels guilty for not being able to be there for him. He knows that there’s really nothing he can do to help this situation, but the feeling that he could have done something. It makes him unbelievably sad.

  
He’s now deep in thought, a couple of empty bottles lying on the dresser next to the bed. He thinks of the small moments, little knowing smiles, absent-minded touches, deep conversations late into the night, the times they had in this hotel room. How they’d leave little poems, or letters for each other here and there, always out of sight of others. Collins had kept every single one of those in a little box that he kept under his bed, along with other precious things from home – a picture of him with his family in front of a church, a small keychain his little sister had made for him, and a little drawing she had made of them. How he missed her.

  
His thoughts veered back to that day in Dunkirk, he had a feeling something bad was going to happen. It had been the worst mission he’d been on till date, because he almost died, and now Farrier was gone. When he got on the boat, the ‘moonstone’ as it was called, he saw the lone spitfire, and cheered him on, hoping that he would catch a boat home. He went back to base, every second seeming longer and longer, all passing by in the hopes that Farrier would report back any minute now. Yeah. He didn’t. he tried pushing these thoughts back, but it kept coming back. Flashes of him trapped in the cockpit, desperately trying to break open the glass, but to no avail. He could hear the gunshots, how they sounded when they hit the plane.

  
He tried to get rid of these thoughts, he really tried, but they kept coming back. He kept fighting them back, until he drifted off, again – to a world he so desperately wanted to be real.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collins had been a changed man since Dunkirk, most of his fellow pilots noticed. after he'd come back, at around 5 O'clock in the morning, he didn't talk to anyone, he couldn't even make proper eye contact. he went straight to his room. never really talked to anyone since then. he was in denial. completely, flat-out denying that Farrier was gone, expecting him to trudge into the room at any moment now. 
> 
> he never came.

He wakes up the next morning, not feeling particularly good, he doesn't feel anything at all. he goes up to the window, peeps through the thick curtain. it's a gloomy day, there's no sunlight. it feels like it's going to rain soon. he looks at the street down there, not looking for anything in particular, just letting his eyes stray. he sees two young boys exiting the tavern, obviously drunk, arms around shoulders, neither of them doing anything effective from letting them stumble around the street. it doesn't seem like anything out of the ordinary to any other person, but to Collins, this little incident brings back a wave of memories. how they'd go out and get drunk, just like these two, and then help each other walk back to base, while looking like complete disasters. then, sometimes contemplating, sometimes talking, sometimes just basking in each other's presence, feeling that this right here, was home, and there is nowhere else either of them would rather to be. every little moment like this would now send him spiraling down. he feels tears welling in his eyes, he goes back to bed. he sits there for a while, staring blankly at the floor. he can't recall whether he's felt this numb before.

he shouldn't feel that way. people die during war all the time. this is not a new concept. he's lost so many of his friends on missions before- Dawson, Turner, Wilson, Stewart, and Taylor to name a few, Dawson being one of his closest. but that's the thing- they were not Farrier. he had been the one to comfort him when they came back, he'd been the one who had always been by his side, and now he was gone. another thing- he wasn't in love with any of them.

Collins had been a changed man since Dunkirk, most of his fellow pilots noticed. after he'd come back, at around 5 O'clock in the morning, he didn't talk to anyone, he couldn't even make proper eye contact. he went straight to his room. never really talked to anyone since then. he was in denial. completely, flat-out denying that Farrier was gone, expecting him to trudge into the room at any moment now.

he never came.

he took a deep breath and lay down, staring at the ceiling. it felt familiar. of course it did, it was their hotel room. the one they had spent countless nights in, the memories of those times permanently etched in their minds. it was a welcome thought, well for a few seconds, at least. it lasted only as long, before he realized that they would not be coming here anymore. well, at least not together. it would just be him.

they had vowed to go back home together, but fate knew better - he never came back. but, Collins hoped that all those memories they had made were as precious to Farrier as they were to him. the last letter he had received ended with 'goodnight, sleep well my love'

the war had ended now, it had been a few months. of course, those who still hadn't returned home were presumed dead. not very surprising, to say the least. Collins was not particularly enthusiastic about all this, he knew that it would be disappointment. there wasn't much change in his life either, he just didn't have to deal with gunshot noises anymore. well, at least not when he was awake. he got up and got dressed, got his stuff, and checked out. he had no place to go, he just wanted to get out of that damned hotel room. he had to leave, just get out of this never ending loop of misery. he decided to go visit their 'secret spot' where they would go, away from everyone, away from prying eyes, away from questions. just silence, and moonlight. perhaps visiting one last time won't hurt. so he started walking, defeated and hopeless, knowing that going to that place would only make it hurt more. he reached the small path, walked ahead, took a few turns till it had disappeared, and all that was in front of him was a small clearing, all around him, trees. he put his things down and sat down himself, resting his back against the broad trunk. the place had been untouched since the last time they'd gone there.

he reached inside his inside pocket of his blazer and took out a small folded paper. he unfolded it, it was a picture of them. in front of his Spitfire. what a day that was. he looked at the picture for a long time, soaking in every little detail. he could end it, end it all right here, with no regrets. he didn't have anything to live for anymore, no family, no kids, no one to care for, so why bear this cruel existence at all? he was a broken man, with no purpose anymore, he felt like a ghost. no one knew him. how could this possibly hurt anybody? he folded up the picture and put it back in his pocket. he got up, took a few steps forward.

"you said you'd never leave me" he said out loud. no one would hear him here.

"And i never did" a familiar voice says from behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKKJGSFSGF HE CAME BACK :) see, i told you this would be a happy ending :D
> 
> also, i am SO sorry for updating this so late. well, the plan was to publish this chapter the next day, but then stuff kept coming up, i had no motivation, and my exams are currently going on. what a great time to update a fic, but i just got a surge of inspiration somehow so i'm writing this instead of studying for history. 
> 
> more importantly,  
> the 'goodnight, sleep well my love' part was from a real letter from ww2 which was sent by Brian Keith to his lover Dave, in 1943 when they were stationed in North Africa. it was such a beautiful letter to read, i really sobbed like a baby when i read it. they were so in love, it's unreal :')


End file.
